#after-hours

Dark purple, blue, and after hours based moodboard~ ^^ For @cravingtakoyaki, hope you like the look!!

After a few issues with storing and naming the files I worked with (and I am still pretty sure that I didn’t get the permutations right), I posted the screenshots to my Instagram account, while remembering that this was not the first time I worked with this particular book.

Switching back to my laptop, I looked for the files from last time, and especially from when they they were.

Boy, was I surprised to see their date: 22nd of June, 2022. Two years ago, bachelor’s thesis between those files and now, if I may. I am consistent in my summer endeavours.

And I had this smile on my face. How awesome is that? You just continue from where you left off. No deletion, no destruction, just a continuation of your own process, at your own pace.

As part of my explorative investigations into design as program(me), I’m also investing time into Karl Gerstner’s “Designing Programmes”, as well as an aside and, for later, Christian Büning’s “Zirkeltraining für die Augen”, a book which will hopefully allow me to improve my visual design acuity at first glance, which I value as very important for an art director.

Link list of the books mentioned:

Get “Analog Algorithm” from slanted, Lars Müller Publishing, or from Amazon Read more about Analog Algorithm on its dedicated website, https://analog-algorithm.com/

Get the “Designing Programmes” 1967 edition from archive.org, Amazon, and from Lars Müller Publishing There is also a new reprint of this book, which you can find here, https://haraldgeisler.com/books/ in English, German, and French, bien sûr!

Get “Zirkeltraining für die Augen” from Werkstoff Verlag, or from Amazon.

Link list of the people mentioned

Christoph Grünberger’s Linktree

Karl Gerstner’s estate Website

Christian Büning’s studio Website

Scenario: His impatience will be the end of his pride one day, but he doesn’t have to worry about such things with your loving and accepting self. Sanat Kumara has always been direct with how he feels. When he craves to ride you, he makes no secret of it.

(Gotta love his big booba. Seriously, those things are huge. Also anything NSFW will be under the After-Hours tag.)

         Welcome to After Hours café           in the heart of the city          opened from 5 pm to 4 am 

        Come in and melt your worries with a tea, a coffee or          just a talk with the barista or one of our regulars

Mr. Chim stubs his toe on a mail cart in the middle of the night 

"GAH!" he swears before shooting it a glare. 

His gaze drifts around the darkened mailroom. There was no one up at this hour. Everyone went home. To their friends. To their families. And here sat Mr. Chim. Alone, stubbing his tiny  teensy toes on sleeping mimicry. Why was he even awake?  Just wandering, like he liked to do.

He'd peek into Chartreuse and check to see if the drink locks were tight. He'd poke around Orange for a left-over snack. He'd wander up to Blue to watch a monitor or two, and stave his anxiety that he wasn't the only one here. 

...Nope, all clear, as usual. 

He'd peek at the door to Indigo, and flutter through Amber. He thought Amberose stayed late, as he office door always hummed with a musical touch, but he was never sure. 

And then to Vermilion, where'd put on a small show, just to tickle that long lost producer inside of him. Maybe just a solo or two, before he was off to the chutes, or elevators again. Which ever was closer. 

Green owned an  hour or two of his. He'd sit on a bench, and watch the stars. He was never sure if the sunroof was real or magical, and never dared to challenge the illusion. 

And soon, before he'd know it, the elevator would ding, and he'd be back home in his Yellow department. He'd flutter over cubicles, and weave between chairs, before he'd find his way back to the mailroom. And like any other night, the imp took a moment to stop. The notes on the wall. The sleeping mimics lining the floor. The mail pile, ready to be sorted with the rising sun. It was quiet as always, (barring the snoring from cart number 5) and just as alone as any other night.

In all of his years. Hundreds upon thousands, in all of his years, he'd never really had a home. A handler. An Owner. A master with a cage. A tower. A dungeon. An alley for it's range. But never before, never once before Yellowneous took that contract, had he had a place to call home. Even though it was strange, and tousled, and prone to explosions here and there, REM's mailroom was the first place the imp could settle down and know that his worries of the day were safe to melt away until the rising sun of the next day to come. 

The pink imp snorted. There he went again, getting sentimental over a stinky ol' mailroom. How many times is he going to do this before it gets old? More importantly, how many times is Padge going to leave his cart in the middle of the room? With a flick of his tail, the old curmudgeon sent the cart wheeling off to its resting place, and set off to the locked door labeled "Mr. Chim". He squirmed his way under the crack below the door, since the key had been long since gone, and POP-ed into his office. The oversized desk. The awkward shrine. And his little teapot home.  As usual, he had only a few hours before the others came onto their shifts, but he figured it was time for a rest. So the tiny imp fluttered his way to the kettle, popping its top, and pulling the string to his lamp. 

I have plugged in my typographer’s keyboard and treat this as a new kind of practice.

Today was spent on undoing one of my own experiments: I’d added colored stickers to the spines of those books which were reading and study material during my graphic design study.

But, unlike the patches of colored paper, the system I use didn’t stick. I actually can’t even recall the colors properly: green was for design, blue was for? And black? Was black some kind of foundational knowledge?

So armed with soapy water, a toothbrush­−and later one of those nail‑polishing devices run on batteries−I’ve spent the afternoon and the early evening on removing these stickers.

For the most part, this worked fine with most books, but some types of coated papers proved more rugged than others. Would be interesting to know which were which. Maybe some other time for researching?

But what I’ve noticed was my complete disregard for separating work time from leisure time: I don’t think that I’m enjoying doing menial things like removing stickers. But I think I believe that getting things done today, at the expense of leisure, is better than continuing tomorrow.

There are those among you reading this who already know how flawed this kind of “work ethos” truly is. And there are those who will be surprised by how burning out and working overtime are connected.

I for one believe that this idea of doing as many things as possible in one day has hindered my own development more than anything else has: if I overdo it today, I will not regenerate in time until tomorrow comes around.

I will use this spot on the web as my after‑hours blog where I can reflect a little about how I progress and change, both as a graphic designer and as a student of design.

I have a schedule for myself. I have office hours. And I want to also have days where I can use an out‑of‑office message because I need to focus on a particular tough design or skill issue.

And boy, are there many of those!